


Was I the Same When I Woke Up This Morning?

by still_lycoris



Category: X-Men: Apocalypse (2016) - Fandom
Genre: Dream Sex, Dreams, F/M, Jean is sixteen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 14:35:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9824816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/still_lycoris/pseuds/still_lycoris
Summary: Charles has pleasant dreams of a lover who only exists in his head. Only perhaps not so unreal ...





	

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [Unforgotten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unforgotten/pseuds/Unforgotten) in the [xmenrarepairs17](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/xmenrarepairs17) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> They've been lovers in their dreams for a year before Jean comes to him in the flesh.

He was back in Oxford and late for something. He wasn’t really sure _what_ but he was definitely late and for some reason, the hall was filled with people and it was almost impossible to push his way between them. Charles struggled, trying to be polite and wondering why none of them would just _shift_.

The frustration was building and he was fairly certain that he was going to scream when he saw her.

She was different from the oddly faceless crowd. She stood out, sharply defined. She had red hair and the pale skin that often came with red hair and she looked a little confused. Charles couldn’t help smiling. The crowd had faded a little and it was easy to walk over to her.

“Hello.”

“H-hello.”

She sounded unsure of herself. Charles continued to smile and gently reached out to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear.

“Want to walk with me? I’m supposed to be going somewhere ... somewhere important, I think but I seem to be lost. Maybe you’ll be my lucky charm?”

She gave a rather startled giggle and blushed. Charles was used to that kind of reaction. He liked it. It was usually a good sign.

“All right,” she said. “Why not? You look a little old for me though.”

“Ah, but age is just a number now, isn’t it?”

There was something about the statement that vaguely stirred something inside him, a touch of unreality that disturbed him. But then the girl opened a door for him and they were walking through the Bodleian stacks and he forgot it because the girl looked so excited to see all the old books and this had clearly been such a good idea of his to take her on a date here. He was a clever, clever man when it came to wooing lovely ladies.

“Yes, I’ve always enjoyed that one,” he said as his girl tugged out a beautifully embossed copy of _Alice in Wonderland_. “There’s something about it, isn’t there?”

“It’s one of my favourite books,” she said. “There’s just ... something about it, don’t you think? I love how it captures what it’s like to be a child, the way you try to make sense of what doesn’t make sense.”

“But everything does make sense, in its way,” Charles said. “The logic puzzles, the mathematical jokes ... I think it makes sense.”

“But at the same time, everything is a little disconnected,” she said. She was flicking through the book, looking at the familiar pictures and Charles felt almost as though he was a part of them, seeing little glimpses of cut-outs of animals and cards and Alice herself, trying to logic her way through the madness.

“Well, that’s dreams for you,” he said. “Everything is a little disconnected.”

She smiled at him, running long fingers over the spine of the book. He reached out and touched her hand, enjoying the smoothness of it and it seemed quite a natural moment to kiss her so he did, just a light touch of his lips to hers, almost friendly. Her lips were very soft, very pleasant and Charles felt her shiver as he deepened the kiss, just a little.

Then his eyes were opening and he was staring up at the ceiling of his bedroom, his alarm clock shrilling at him, telling him that it was time to get up. He sat up slowly, blinking a little, mulling over the dream briefly. It had been a little odd, although nothing much weirder than any other dream he’d had. Perhaps it was the red-head. She’d seemed like she made a lot more sense than most of his dream conversations did. Even now, he could still remember her face quite clearly and that was unusual. Was she perhaps someone that he’d met? Someone that had registered in his mind but not somebody that had a name to put to the face? That happened more to him than other people, given that he often caught glimpses of strangers in other people’s minds. That had probably been it.

He couldn’t help smiling as he got himself out of bed. It had been a little cheesy perhaps, but it had been a rather nice dream all the same. It had been a fun sort of kissing dream and he hadn’t had one of those in a while. It was a nice way to begin the day.

*

It was quite a while before the next dream.

He was walking with Hank through a rather strange market, trying to buy fish. Hank really wanted them for something and was being a little annoying, ridiculously pedantic about the type of fish (although, Charles did have to admit that it was odd that most of the fish stalls seemed to be selling rather noisy birds as opposed to fish.)

He turned left down another little path and then spotted the red-headed girl again. She was looking a bit hazy and indistinct this time but as he walked up to her, she became clearer.

She was sitting in a classroom, a normal classroom, not one of Charles’s. She had the pinched look that he had seen all too often on the faces of students who hadn’t done their homework and was staring at the teacher who appeared to be teaching something that was _meant_ to be science although it sounded like gibberish to him.

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” he said cheerfully, perching himself on the end of the desk, blocking the way of the teacher, who didn’t seem to notice. She looked up and immediately smiled, a bright and beautiful smile.

“Oh, hello!”

“Come on,” Charles said. “This is hardly a fun date, is it?”

“Oh, are you taking me on a date?”

She looked a little shy. Charles held out his hand.

“Why not?” he said.

He had a feeling that there _was_ a reason why not but he couldn’t remember it so he decided to ignore the niggle. Taking his lovely red-head by the hand, he led her out of the classroom and onto a rather pretty beach.

Charles frowned. He wasn’t quite sure that he wanted to have a date on a beach. He didn’t really like beaches. And this one looked a lot like _the_ beach.

His red-head seemed pleased though. She’d given a laugh and run down to paddle in the water. Charles followed her down more slowly, trying to ignore the ghostly submarine that glimmered in the corner of his eye.

“Having fun?”

“Yes,” she said, turning with a ripple of beautiful hair to smile at him. “This is lovely. Thank you. But ... you’re upset?”

“No,” Charles lied. He reached out and took her hand, stroking his fingers over her knuckles. “If you’re happy, I’m happy, pet.”

She frowned.

“You don’t have to lie to me,” she said. “I hate it when people lie. If there’s something wrong, you should say it.”

She glared at him and Charles had to smile back. He liked people that spoke back to him – and she was quite right. He was patronising her, in a way.

“Sorry. I was hurt on a beach once. I don’t like them very much. If you do though, I’m happy to stay.”

She didn’t look quite like she believed him but then she smiled and lightly splashed him. Charles splashed her back, feeling pleasantly ridiculous. It had been a long time since he’d been able to enjoy himself like this. Even with the odd spectres in the background, it was still nice. Happy.

She splashed him again and Charles caught hold of her, pretending he was going to dunk her. She struggled and laughed and Charles kissed her. She kissed him back with a shiver, twisting her arms around his neck and Charles continued to kiss her, marvelling at the softness of her skin, the feeling of her hair between his fingers. He could really _feel_ her, feel every touch of her body against his and it was quite amazing, quite, quite ...

He stroked a hand gently down her shoulder, cupping one of her breasts. She gave a moan, pressing closer, trembling as she did. Charles kept kissing, deciding to be slow. He had a feeling that she liked it slow, though it suddenly occurred to him that he couldn’t actually read her mind.

It snapped him out of the dream and he opened his eyes, staring up at the ceiling, blinking, still feeling the stir of warm arousal. It seemed a little strange to have dreamed of the same person twice, particularly in such a vivid way, although he supposed it was not impossible. It was pleasant though, very pleasant.

Given that his real life was entirely lacking in romance, he felt that a dream one was a pleasant enough substitute.

*

He dreamed of her again. And again. And again.

He never realised they were dreams, not until he woke up. Which was rather frustrating, in its way. It meant he could never remember to ask anything. He wanted her to have a proper name but in the dreams, it never seemed to matter so he never remembered to ask. Instead, he just walked with her, talked with her. 

Did other things with her.

They had taken their time in their dreams, just as Charles would have in the real world. They went to places – strange dream places, yes, but they did go to them. They talked about all sorts of things, but always oddly. He knew strange ideas of her rather than about the person she was. She liked rabbits, birds, the colour green. She liked things that moved gently, she liked things calm and ordered. Which Charles could sympathise with really. He liked that too.

He certainly knew what she liked in bed.

They’d had sex in so many places now. Dream places, yes, but that was the fun of it. They’d been in a bed but they’d also been on a beach, in a forest, on the top of a surprisingly pointy mountain. Sometimes, Charles woke up and laughed at his own ridiculous mind and just how uncomfortable some of the things would be if they had been done in reality.

But they were dreams. You could do anything that you wanted in a dream.

Hank sometimes commented that he looked happier these days. Charles just smiled at him, occasionally commented that seeing the school flourish did make him happy. Which it did, of course. It just wasn’t the only thing.

The school _was_ flourishing though and it took up a lot of his time. People were contacting him, asking him to accept their children. They were gaining respectability and more and more people were willing to admit that their children were mutants thanks to Raven. 

It was Hank who brought him the letter from the Greys.

“They’re really worried about her, Charles. She’s always been gifted – their words – but a friend of hers died in an accident and she seems to have lost the control that she had.”

“Do they say what her powers are?” Charles asked, frowning.

“Telekinesis and telepathy. ” 

“We’d better make a personal visit then.”

It wasn’t just that he was interested in meeting another telepath – although he was. But he also knew just how hard it was to struggle with telepathy, and just how dangerous it could be when telepathy went wrong. 

He called and spoke to Mrs Grey personally. She seemed reassured when he told her he and his colleague were coming to meet Jean. Charles thought that she sounded a sensible person and was glad that she’d sought help.

Another sign that their society was doing better than before.

The Greys had a lovely house, warm and inviting. They were inviting too, incredibly friendly although Charles could sense their nervousness. Their minds churned with it; fear that they were doing the wrong thing, fear that their daughter would suffer, fear that their daughter could hear everything they were thinking right now and that she’d be so unhappy ...

Charles resisted the urge to tell them that everything would be fine. For a start, it would only remind them that he too could read everything in their minds. It was better to just be calm with potential parents, not remind them of the oddness mutations could offer. For another thing, he knew it was something that he couldn’t promise. Living with a mutation was hard, particularly the one that Jean had. Telepathy could make things so much harder ...

Then Jean Grey came into the room and Charles’s heart stopped.

She didn’t look exactly like the girl in his mind – but she wouldn’t. A person’s telepathic vision of themselves was not the same as their physical persona. But there were not enough differences to disguise the obvious and he could see from the look on her face that she knew the same. That although this was their first physical meeting, they had already met many, many times before.

Without thinking, he flicked his mind, freezing Hank and the Greys in place. Jean had turned pale and was gasping and if they saw ...

She blinked, looked around, her shock briefly eclipsed by her curiosity.

“Did you do that?”

“I did,” he said, trying to keep his voice calm. “I thought we could use a moment of privacy.”

“I ... I didn’t know! I thought ... I thought you weren’t real!”

She was shaking. Charles reached out a hand to her before he realised that it might not be a good idea to touch her. Although he was trying to keep his face calm and his mind concealed, he felt just as shocked as Jean looked. How old had her parents said she was? God, he’d been having sex – mental sex, yes but still sex – with a teenager ...

“I thought you weren’t real either,” he admitted quietly. “I had no idea ... ”

But was that really true? He’d always known that his girl wasn’t like a normal dream, he’d always known it wasn’t the same. Had he just refused to put the pieces together? Told himself a happy lie because he’d wanted this to continue? Because he had been lonely?

“I’m so sorry,” Jean said and she sounded like she was going to cry.

“Listen to me,” Charles said, keeping his voice firm. “This wasn’t your fault. You’re only just learning your power, you couldn’t possibly have known that you were in another person’s mind or what that meant. Please don’t blame yourself for this.”

“Are you going to blame yourself for it?”

She looked at him with keen eyes, surprisingly understanding. Charles knew exactly why he had been drawn to her mind.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’m older than you, more accustomed to the oddities. I think should have known, I really should. But I didn’t. I just hope that I haven’t hurt you.”

She blushed and didn’t speak aloud but Charles heard her quite clearly in his head.

_It’ll hurt more now it has to stop_.

He pretended that he hadn’t heard. Instead, he released the others and talked as though there hadn’t been any sort of pause at all. He knew that Hank was suspicious – Hank had seen him do it enough that he knew the things to look for. But Hank was a good and loyal friend and he wouldn’t betray Charles, though he would doubtless ask about it later. Charles would have to decide if he could tell him the truth or not.

The Greys didn’t notice at all. They were pleased when Jean seemed to take to him, pleased when he said that he’d welcome her as a student.

Charles _did_ feel guilty about that. He was sure if they knew the truth ... if they knew what he’d done ... they wouldn’t want him to take Jean.

But he hadn’t really done anything, had he? Not really. It had been dreams, dreams weren’t real, how could he have realised ...

But he should have realised. He was a telepath. Dreams were _not_ always just dreams to a telepath. He should have done things differently, should have trained himself.

He couldn’t take back what had happened. He couldn’t change it. 

But he’d have to be a lot more careful about what he dreamed from now on.


End file.
